My Dear, Dear Lord, The

Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will.

And Writers Say, As The Most Forward Bud Is Eaten By The Canker Ere It Blow, Even So By Love The Young And Tender Wit Is Turn'd To Folly, Blasting In The Bud, Losing His Verdure Even In The Prime, And All The Fair Effects Of Future Hopes.

For This Relief, Much Thanks

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

Though It Make The Unskillful Laugh, Cannot But Make The Judicious Grieve.